


A Dinner Engagement

by Dryad



Category: Tweed & Co. - Colin Forbes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:16:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I brought your nice young man for tea."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dinner Engagement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lullabymoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lullabymoon/gifts).



~*~

 

Paula Grey blinked and very slowly put down the glass plate she had  
been drying onto the blue formica counter, because following her  
mother through the back door of the kitchen was Tweed.

Tweed, wearing dungarees and a plain white tee shirt with a navy  
pinstriped waistcoat and black Doc Martens.

Tweed, in her mother's pre-War house with the faded cabbage rose  
wallpaper and old-fashioned outside loo still in the garden. Granted,  
the loo was no longer in use...but it was there. Where Tweed could see  
it.

"Well come on, Paula, don't just stand there," urged Mum, bustling  
over with a plastic bag from Morrison's. "It's time for tea, do set an  
extra plate for Leland."

She felt her face flush and busied herself with putting away the dishes  
she had been drying.

"Hallo, Paula," said Tweed, pressing his lips to her cheek. His eyes  
were wide with amusement, though he was keeping it off of his face.

She glared at him out of the corner of her eye. "Since you're here, you  
can do some of the work," she said, handing him cups and saucers.  
"There's a tray in that cabinet, and the lounge is through those doors."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered with alacrity, stacking the items in one  
hand and retrieving the tray with the other. He winked as he opened  
the door.

Paula resisted the urge to hurl the damp tea-towel after him. Barely.

"He's lovely," said her mother, putting the biscuit tin on the table. "I  
don't know why you haven't brought him around before."

"Mum..."

"Oh, shoo. I'll bring the biscuits and cake in, you go have a chat."

Torn between telling Mum the truth (Tweed would never be more than  
her boss, no matter sometimes she liked to imagine differently) and  
keeping shtum, Paula kept shtum. Wasn't worth the hassle. Although  
Mum wasn't particularly old-fashioned. She believed women should  
work if they wanted to, thought education was the bee's knees. And  
yet, she kept haranguing Paula about marriage and grandchildren,  
which was ridiculous, because she was 25 and Mum was only 60.  
These days most women lived into their _80s_ , for goodness sakes!

Closing the glass door firmly behind her, Paula hissed, "What are  
you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?"

Tweed grabbed her wrist and led her away from the door and  
window, to the darkest corner of the room by the bookcase. "I don't  
know how he found out, but Stratton followed me from the meeting at  
the Bistro with Fortey and Nairn. I ducked into a market and bought  
new clothes, ditched him by Kenneth Water. I daren't go back to the  
office given Stratton's ability to blend in with the crowd and I haven't  
been able to contact Newman or Monica."

"But how did you come here?"

"Ah, that," Tweed looked faintly apologetic. "I...met your mother on  
Crown Street and introduced myself, asked if you were home today."

"And that's why she thinks your my boyfriend?"

"No, I told her we were dating."

Paula stared at him in disbelief. Why..."Why on earth would you do  
that?"

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time?"

Before she had a chance to say anything, Mum entered, carrying a tray  
with a plate of biscuits and the good tea pot. There was a wider  
variety of biscuit than usual, Bourbons, Garibaldis, Custard cremes,  
the ubiquitous Digestives and even two Eccles cakes leftover from  
Sunday lunch.

"I'm so glad you could come for tea, Leland."

"Thank you, Mrs. Grey. I'm glad to get to know you better," said  
Tweed, sitting on the yellow chintz sofa. He accepted a cup of tea, a  
Bourbon perched precariously on the saucer.

"Milk?"

"Thank you, no."

Mum poured for Paula, adding milk and teaspoon of sugar for her  
along the way. "Tell me, how did you and Paula meet?"

"On the tenth of June I was in Waitrose, buying my lunch when I ran  
into a pretty young girl who'd just dropped a bottle of orange juice. It  
smashed and she slipped and I caught her..."

Paula tuned out Tweed's fabrication to think about what he had said.  
First of all, was there any possibility Stratton could have followed  
him here? It was unlikely, Tweed looked nothing like his normal,  
lovely self. If anything he looked like an older, odder knockoff of that  
lead singer from that band, the one who walked around with a  
daffodil in his back pocket. Though Tweed was more finely featured  
and quite frankly, much more good looking.

She wanted to assume they were safe - that Mum was safe - but she  
knew better. So the question was, how to contact Monica or Newman?  
Calling the office was problematic. The only people who knew  
Tweed was meeting with Fortey were the four of th- no. There was  
one other, her counterpart in Nance's division. She didn't know him  
well, he was fresh to special Branch...but he was a nosey Parker.

"Twe - Leland! Sorry to interrupt," said Paula. "Have you spoken to  
Peter at all today? Peter Minton?"

Tweed blinked once, then rocked back on the sofa. "Ah. Of course."

Mum cocked her head to one said, then rose to her feet, smoothing  
down non-existent wrinkles in her fawn wool skirt at the same time.  
"I think I heard someone at the door, excuse me."

"I was thinking I should call Monica from here and arrange a time to  
get together?" asked Paula, taking a Digestive from the plate on the  
coffee table.

"Ye-es..." he said, steepling his fingers in front of his chin. "Tell him to  
meet us at Estaminet on the Coal Road at 7. But I want you to dress  
down a bit, you look too sharp for a place like that."

Paula looked down at herself in surprise. She wasn't wearing  
anything different from her every day wear; a long-sleeved dark green  
dress, low navy pumps, a gold arrow brooch with tiny diamonds in  
the fletching, and a bolero the color of cream her Gran had knitted  
before she died.

"Wear those black trousers, flats, and a button-down shirt, plus a  
pinney. I'm sure your mother will have one somewhere if you don't."

A pinney?! Paula flushed at the suggestion, flushed harder as she  
realized he thought Mum was nothing more than a mere housewife.  
And then a third time as she reviewed his list of suggested clothing.  
Yes, he was an observant man, she just never thought he was that  
observant about _her_.

Tweed abruptly sat up, cocking his head towards the door. Paula  
looked at the door too, heard something odd, a grunt followed by a  
heavy thud.

"Paula!" called Mum, her voice high and desperate.

Even though she was further away, Paula somehow managed to beat  
Tweed to the door and into the hallway, stopping short at the sight  
before her. "Mum!"

A short, stocky man in a dark suit lay on the brown tile of the foyer  
floor, bleeding heavily from his scalp. Mum leaned on Grandad's  
substantial cudgel of a walking stick, her light blue blouse spattered  
with blood. She gasped for breath, her hands shaking. "He said he'd  
come for you! He said - awful things - I had to stop him!"

Tweed darted past Paula and turned the man over. "Good god, it's Joe  
Stanley! Mrs. Grey, you don't know what you've just done," he began  
going through Stanley's pockets. "Call Newman, have him get a crew  
here as soon as possible."

"R-right," Paula ran back to the lounge and made the call, hanging up  
without saying goodbye as Mum entered the room. "Are you okay?  
Should I call Dr McMinn? I'll go get Valerie, she's always in this time of  
day."

Mum grabbed Paula's hand in an iron grip, made her sit down. "I'm  
fine, love, fine. Bit more excitement than I'm used to. I need a cup of tea  
and a chance to rest."

She did as requested, trying to understand how Mum could be so  
calm. She got up and checked the hallway; Tweed had Stanley bound  
hand and foot, had him sitting up against the cold radiator.

"He'll be out for awhile yet," said Tweed. He stood and approached  
Paula, touched her shoulder gently. "How's your mother?"

"She's appears to be fine?"

He smiled slightly. "I'm not surprised."

"I am," she muttered, allowing him to steer her back into the lounge.

"I know I'm going to go to gaol for this, but I couldn't help it, Paula. The  
things that man said!"

Paula knelt, squeezing Mum's knees with both hands. "It'll be okay, I  
promise."

"Mrs. Grey," said Tweed, his voice firm but soft. "You don't need to  
pretend to be upset, Paula can take it."

Mum sniffed twice, glanced at Paula, then at Tweed. Paula was  
shocked to see her expression smooth over.

"You know."

He nodded, regarded Paula as if he were begging her pardon. "What?  
What does he know? Mum?"

Mum took a deep breath, patted Paula's hand. "You know I worked in  
the London Signals Intelligence Centre during the final years of the  
War?"

"Yes, that's where you met Dad."

Mum opened her mouth to speak, glanced at Tweed again.

"Paula," he said quietly. "London Signals was the code name for  
Bletchley Park."

She reared back onto her heels. "Bletchley Park? But that's where they  
cracked the Enigma Machine! You were a code breaker?"

"Amongst other things," said Mum. "And I know you work for Special  
Branch," she gazed at Paula fondly.

"Like mother, like daughter," Tweed murmured.

Paula broke into a huge grin. "But that's brilliant! Mum! You're  
brilliant!"

"Knock knock!" called someone from the hallway.

"That'll be for me," said Tweed, trotting out of the lounge.

"Mum, I can't believe it! Why didn't you tell me?"

Mum shrugged, picked at her blouse with a moue of distaste. "Official  
Secrets Act. And, after awhile you just forget you ever participated.  
I'm glad you know, though."

"Oh, I am. Oh Mum, this is fantastic!"

"I'm glad you think so. Now, tell me about Leland - that's not really  
his name, is it."

"No, his name is Tweed, and before you ask, he was married and is  
now divorced and he doesn't have any children and he's my boss, so  
don't go getting any ideas."

"I would never. He is a very handsome gentleman, even  
though he would look better in a good suit. Or out of it."

Just as she finished speaking, Tweed poked his head around the door.  
"Ladies, I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's almost 6pm and Paula needs to  
change as we have a dinner engagement."

Mum raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips primly at Paula, the very  
picture of innocence.

"Mum..." Paula groaned.

 

~*~ fin ~*~

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: I'm new to Tweed & Co, but I very much enjoyed the spark  
> between Paula Grey and Tweed as written in The Greek Key. Be good  
> material for a tv series...
> 
> Pocket Daffodil Guy - Morrisey, from The Smiths.
> 
> Pinney - a sleeveless apron covering neck to slightly below the waist.  
> Common for cleaners, corner shop servers, and those working food  
> service as well as housewives. My son's pre-school teacher wears one,  
> and damn if I wish I didn't have one myself (for those rare times when  
> I actually do housework)(because I am a busy working mother, that's  
> why)
> 
> London Signals Intelligence Centre was one of the code names for Bletchley Park.


End file.
